by Scott, S. L.
“Your father has racked up another large debt.”
Except that.
Shit.
34
Stella
Josh Baird takes a remote and sits on the couch, kicking his ankle to rest across his knee. It’s incredible to watch how emboldened he is when his father has the upper hand.
Conrad Baird sits in his leather chair with his fingers steepled in front of him as if there’s some great mystery he’s trying to solve.
I took a seat on the other side of the desk when I had the rug pulled out from under me. The mention of the debt my father has accrued is news to me. “I don’t speak to him any longer. I haven’t seen him in months.”
Mr. Baird’s eyes shift to mine, and he nods. “I can imagine selling yourself for his financial problems can cause quite the rift in a father-daughter relationship.”
I’ll tell him nothing that feels too close to reveal. If I can get out of here in the same condition I arrived, I’ll deal with the issue of my father’s debt directly with him. I can’t help him this time. I won’t. If he knew what I gave of myself, the sacrifice I made last time, would he have kept gambling me away? That’s what he’s done. With every hand of cards, every roll of the dice, he anteed me up like a dollar chip.
Do I mean nothing to my dad? Does my life not matter to him at all?
“Turn your chair around, Ms. Fellowes.” I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be here. Will they let me get up and walk out of here without consequences? “Play the recording, Josh.”
From behind me, I hear Meadow’s voice and turn around to see they filmed her at work with a hidden camera. My sister—so young and beautiful, nothing tainting her bright green eyes. She laughs as the person filming makes some comment about the food. Josh says, “Dad promised I could have her if I got straight As this quarter.”
I brace myself on the arms of the chair, my hands turning white from holding it too tight. “What? No,” I reply, shaking my head. “No. That’s not how this works. I paid the debt. Me. Me. I did. She has nothing to do with this.”
“Are you asking me to deny my son his rightful reward?”
Panic sets in, and I can’t think straight. Only nonsense I pray will work. “He has a B in my class, not an A.”
Josh rubs over his crotch as he stares at the screen, as he ogles my sister like she’s prey. “I need an A.” When he looks at me, he asks, “How about some extra credit to earn that A?”
His father says, “Yes, I was so impressed with your skills that I think my son could really benefit from them.” I turn to stare at him, in shock.
What fucked-up world am I living in?
I hear it before I see it. The slap of skin. My pain grunted quietly. His moans while he’s getting off. Yellow whispering in the background. I didn’t hear any of it when it was happening, but now as the video is played, I hear and see it all on the big screen when I turn back around.
Josh stands and walks closer. “This is my favorite part. I blow every time.” Oh my God. He’s a monster just like his father.
“You get off to your father?” I have nothing left to lose.
Glaring back at me, the video of my violation, my rape, because that’s what it is, is paused. “Don’t be a bitch.” It starts playing again, but it’s paused when I look up. “That right there. That look in your eyes. So fucked. So hot.”
“That look only proves to show how dead I am on the inside.”
“You felt quite alive to me. Anyway, we have dinner guests waiting on us. I have the check ready to hand over, and you’ll be contacted by my associates to start on the debt repayment plan.” He comes around and yanks me by the hair at the back of my head. Tilting my head back so I’m forced to look at him, I grind my teeth, holding the last shred of my pride. He says, “Make sure my son gets his A, or we’ll be having an entirely different conversation.”
He walks out of the room and his son follows, and from the hall, I’m summoned. I push up out of the chair and walk to the doorway, still too shaken to digest the confrontation. Josh is gone, but “the boss” stands there with a check in his hands. I look at the writing and the dollar amount. Brian Teller. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money, but why is it made out to Brian instead of the school? He says, “I’ll tell our guests you weren’t feeling well. Good night, Ms. Fellowes.”
When I’m left alone, I race to the front door, swing it open, and run for my car. Valet. Fuck.
I walk with him, looking back over my shoulder expecting to be hunted like the prey he believes me to be. The valet asks, “Is everything all right?”
“No.”
I refuse to support the lies that remain in the shadows of that mansion, to pretend the residents aren’t demented. I feel sorry for Mrs. Baird. Does she not realize who she’s married to, who she’s raising? Are they that good at lying and hiding their sickness that she can’t see beyond the shiny façade?
She can’t, I determine. There’s no way. But if she doesn’t know the real monsters they are, she’s chosen to look the other way.
He hands me the keys, and says, “Drive safe, ma’am.”
I don’t. I drive as fast as I can until I’m miles away. Being alone in the car reminds me that for the first time in years, I’m not actually alone in life. I have my sister, but when it came to the bad stuff, I tried to shield her. Those sick fuckers better not go near her. I’ll make sure they don’t any way I can.
I make the call I should have made years before.
“Hey baby,” Rivers answers. “How’d it go?”
“I need you.”
* * *
“I’ll find a way, Meadow.”
“I need the money. Anyway, I can’t just walk out after all these years. I have to give notice.”
“Please just listen to me—”
“You haven’t told me anything, but you show up demanding I quit my job and go with you. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on?”
I pull her by the arm around to the coffee station. “Our father has found himself deeper in debt than before.”
“Let him worry about it this time,” she says, crossing her arms defiantly.
My hands are sweating as a bead rolls down the back of my neck. “They don’t want him to pay. They want us.”
“What are you talking about? He didn’t care about us when we helped him before, so we’re damn sure not helping him out this time. We have nothing to do with him anymore.”
“They’re bad people, Meadow.”
A cook calls from the kitchen, “You covering your tables or what?”
She takes a step forward but stops and looks me in the eyes. Maybe I can’t lie as well as I used to or maybe she just never looked deep enough to see the truth, but something keeps her from leaving. “You said they want us, not they want us to pay back the money. Us.”
I let her come to terms with her conclusion. “What did you do, Stella? Why would they offer you mercy when they wouldn’t give it to our dad?”
“They showed me no mercy.”
A steady pause hums between us as she absorbs my words. When another waitress walks by with an empty tray, Meadow taps her on the shoulder, and asks, “Can you cover my tables tonight. I have an emergency.”
“Sure, but are you splitting tips?”
“No, they’re yours. Thanks, Cammie.”
“I’m stuck here anyway, so it’s no problem.”
“I’ll tell the manager.” When Meadow turns to me, she says, “I’m parked out back.”
“I’ll drive around and tail you to the house.”
* * *
We move around Jet’s house in silence. Too worried to go back to Meadow’s for any of her belongings, we drove straight here. She’s stuck in the T-shirt and shorts she wears to work, has her apron with the tips she made on the shift, and her purse. I don’t have much else. My bag that I threw a few things in, but not most of the possessions I care about.
Stuff doesn’t matt
er. It’s replaceable . . . well, most of it. For the time being, Meadow is safe and I’m safe. I’m good with that.
I’ve set the alarm on the house and shut all the blinds, checked the windows, and come back to the kitchen where Meadow leans against the counter with a glass of water in her hands. “Do I want to know, Stel?”
“No.”
Opening the fridge, I find a bag of grapes and put them on the counter. My stomach is too upset to eat, but I feel like she needs the option.
The bag is opened, and she’s dipping into it. I’m not sure if she’s hungry or looking for something to do with her hands. I start thinking about our next move and what our options are, but she interrupts my thoughts. “Rivers knows, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“You told him?”
“Yes.”
“But not me?” She huffs and looks put out. “I don’t know what to say or ask or even what to do, Stella. You have to give me something here. I might have lost a job I need based on some unknown that apparently I’m supposed to be afraid of.”
“Truthfully, I don’t know how to tell you. I can blurt it out and wait for the judgment or the shock value to wear off or you can try to trust that I know what’s best right now.” I walk into the living room and sit on the couch. I’m tempted to turn on the TV to be reminded that the world is still functioning normally when ours has been changed forever. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to be honest with me. I’m not a kid you need to protect anymore or take care of. I take care of my own life now. Are you in trouble with these people?”
“They’re not people, Mead. They’re monsters.”
“Okaaaaay. They’re monsters. So now what? We hide out here for days on end until what? What happens now?”
“I don’t know. We call the police? We wait for Rivers to call back?” I stand and start pacing.
“Stella? Are we safe here?”
I hear the wobble in her voice, and when I turn around, I see the tears in her eyes. “I don’t know.” Reaching into my purse, I find the slip of paper with Rivers’s credit card number scribbled down. “And if I don’t know, we should go. We can get a room somewhere or leave. We can go to LA.”
“I have school tomorrow. Midterms are next month. If I miss two classes, I’ll fail.” She picks up her purse. “Are you going to work tomorrow?”
“No. I’m not.”
“How will we pay for anything?”
I hold up the piece of paper. “Rivers.”
With my bag in the trunk and whatever we had on us, we get in the 4Runner and leave our cars behind.
At a stop sign at the exit of the neighborhood, she asks, “Which way?”
“The police. We can’t run forever, so we need to go to the police.”
“Are you sure?”
Rivers’s words from our call earlier come back. The only safe place is with the police until I can get there. Don’t be the hero, Stella. I just got you back. I can’t lose you forever.
“Yes.”
* * *
Sitting in a room with a table and four chairs isn’t as intimidating as the movies make it out to be. Maybe it’s because we’re not the criminals here. The shortened version of our story warrants a detective to be assigned to the case. So we sit in the pale green room and wait.
Meadow has been pacing and chewing on her thumbnail for the good part of an hour when the door opens. A balding man in a brown suit with a file in his hand enters the room. He references the file before he looks up and smiles. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re backed up with calls tonight. A full moon always brings out the crazies.”
“I can imagine,” Meadow says, taking a seat next to me.
He chuckles. “I’m Detective Suthers. I’ve been assigned to the case. We have someone else already working on this case, so I also wanted him here. He’s more familiar with some of the alleged suspects.”
The door starts to close behind him when he moves toward the table, but a hand lands on the metal before it can slam shut. I look at the man filling the doorway and jump to my feet. “Brian?” What the hell is happening here?
35
Rivers
The landing gear touches down in Austin and everyone onboard starts to stir. When we signed with Outlaw Records a year and a half ago, we were welcomed to the family. And when the members of The Resistance say it, they mean it.
The Johnny Outlaw, their infamous drummer, Dex, and the band manager that became ours, Tommy, packed a bag and were on the tarmac before my brothers, Ridge, and I made it to the airport in Burbank. Derrick and Kaz are covering for the band by sticking to an interview in the morning that the band had already committed to.
I have a theory about Johnny and Dex. When they hang with us, they get to relive the wilder side of their youth. They’re not old, not at all, but they’re old enough to know better. Yet with us, they get to take down a bad guy or two. Other than my brothers, they’re my idols and they live up to the title.
A slick black custom van with dark tinted windows is waiting when the private plane comes to a stop. The door rolls down, and I take the lead anxious to get to Stella. We’ve been in contact, but since she’s been talking to the detectives assigned to the case I haven’t wanted to disturb her. Fuck, hearing her voice. I need you. I hated hearing her fear, knowing I was hours away from her. The bastard has come after her again. Fuck.
Once we’re settled in the van with Jet sitting upfront, Ridge and me in the second row, Johnny and Dex in the third, and Tulsa and Tommy in the back, we take off. It’s after three in the morning, and the hour is wearing on everyone’s face. Silence seems to be golden until Ridge asks, “Are we going to the station or the house?”
“The station.” My reply is clipped. My thoughts are on Stella. I text her: Landed in Austin. On the way to you.
She texts: Thank you.
Grateful, as if I’m doing her a favor.
I’m not. She’s doing me the favor by keeping that heart of hers safe, that pretty face protected, that soul whole for me. I shift, anxious to get there.
The Crow Brothers aren’t strangers to being arrested, but I think she’s managed to find the only police station we haven’t been thrown into. When we’re buzzed in behind the counter, the female officer’s mouth starts catching flies by how low it’s hanging. I look back and am suddenly very aware of what this must look like to the outside world. We don’t normally travel in a pack like this.
Pointing, she stumbles over her words, “You’re Johnny Outlaw, and you’re . . . Oh my God, The Crow Brothers. Like, all of them.”
I step up to the counter and not wanting to draw more attention than necessary, whisper, “We’re here for Stella and Meadow Fellowes.”
She stares at me, and then smiles, wide eyes following. “You’re The Crow Brothers. I’ve seen you more than a few times.”
“Thank you. We appreciate it.”
“You play that thing.” She starts snapping her fingers as if that will recall what she’s searching for.
“A bass guitar.”
“Yes!” She points at me. “A guitar.”
I’m not sure how to get her back on track, so I repeat, “Stella Fellowes,” and hope she knows what I mean.
“Yes.” A buzzer sounds. “Come to me. I mean, come on back.” Everyone files through the unlocked door, and the other guys take the seats by the front desk. To everyone else, she says, “Don’t leave. I’m coming back for you.”
Johnny winks. “I’ll be waiting.”
I see her shiver with giddiness as she squeezes her fists with glee. She stops at the second door down the hall and knocks before pushing a code on the keypad and opening the door. My eyes find Stella, and she flies from the chair. Landing against me with an umf, I hold her as tight as I can without squeezing the life from her. “I love you,” I whisper into her hair. Inhaling everything about her scent—oranges and love. I take in the feel of her body, making sure to appreciate that she’s here, s
afe, and in one piece.
Dropping my head to her shoulder, I turn to kiss her neck as soft cries cover my shoulder. I say, “You’re okay, baby.”
“Now that you’re here.” Raindrop tears gather at the top of her bottom lids when she looks up at me. As they roll over and run down her cheeks, she caresses my face. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I’m grateful for you.”
I catch movement from my peripheral and turn. “What the fuck?”
Brian comes forward cautiously, holding his hand out. “Mr. Crow.”
Damn right he knows to address me with respect, but there’s no way in fuck I’m shaking his hand. Stella latches onto my arm when my body tenses, and I jut forward. “No, Rivers. He’s a good guy.”
One arm goes around her waist, and I move her behind me. “A fucking creep stalker is what the fuck he is.”
Brian’s hands go up in surrender. “I apologize for how I had to act. I’ve been undercover on this case. I’m Detective Teller.”
I’m not sure how to process what he’s saying. His words don’t feel right. Not when it comes to him. “You broke into her place. Is that a part of the job description?”
“I can explain. You’re safe in here. She’s safe. Please have a seat and we’ll go over everything.”
Stella moves in front of me, and whispers, “It’s all right. We’re all right. Let’s just sit down. Please.”
Another chair is brought in and set at the end of the small table dividing the two sides. My girls versus them. I grab the chair and move it next to Stella’s chair. Always on her side. Before I sit down, I walk around to Meadow, who stands and hugs me. I give my little sis a hug and make sure there’s not a scratch on her either or I’ll take my rage out on Bri over there. “You okay?”